


Double Vision

by Lise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bad and Also Wrong, Doppelcest, Doppelganger, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, POV Loki (Marvel), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sakaar (Marvel), Shapeshifting, as usual the Grandmaster is having a great time but Loki less so, horrific porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: Loki just wants to get some rest. The Grandmaster has other ideas. Those other ideas involve Loki getting a good look at himself.Not metaphorically.





	Double Vision

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure this one is [Lauren's](http://led-lite.tumblr.com) fault in conception, but probably mine in execution. And this seems like a fic where "fault" is the right word. Just to reiterate the warnings about this being "horrific porn" in the sense of...it's porn, but it's also probably a _little_ bit creepy. (A lot creepy? Your mileage may vary, I suppose.)
> 
> Copious thanks to [Echo](http://loxxxlay.tumblr.com) for giving this a once over while I was writing it, and [Amelia](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com) as always for her gifts as a beta. 
> 
> Enjoy! (Loki's not!)

It had been a long and _miserable_ day. 

There was not even a particularly good reason. Just a collection of things, none of which on their own that would bother Loki overmuch, but gathered together - the headache in the morning, an exhausting and interminable argument with a tailor, an even more exhausting and interminable conversation with a Centaurian who wanted to seduce him, and, as always, Sakaar was hot, crowded, and smelled absolutely _abominable._

The one blessing, and minor miracle, was that at least so far he’d managed to avoid the Grandmaster. He wouldn’t be able to forever - even if it were possible it wouldn’t be wise - but a reprieve of one day was a profound relief. 

If Loki had known what he was agreeing to the first time–

(He couldn’t have done anything but agree. But he preferred to not consider that too closely, or too often.)

Taking a deep breath, thinking dreamily of a hot bath, jets that would pound some of the knots out of his shoulders, Loki let himself into his room. 

His knives were in his hands before he thought of summoning them, and he threw one at the occupant of his bed, who reached up lazily and caught it, then smirked. His own face regarded him, eyebrows raised as he sat up. 

“Hey, now,” said a familiar voice out of his duplicate’s mouth. “Is that any way to treat yourself?”

“Grandmaster,” Loki said, not quite a question, still holding his other knife, his eyes fixed on...it looked like him. His mirror image, though the other Loki was wearing a gold robe loosely sashed. It opened as he stood to show he was wearing nothing underneath. Loki rocked back, contemplating for a moment what would happen if he turned and ran out of the room right now. 

“That’s right,” the Grandmaster said, and laughed, and it was the Grandmaster’s voice but _Loki’s_ laugh and he took an involuntary step back. “You should’ve seen the look on your _face!_ ’ He clicked his tongue. “You’re lucky, you know. Not everyone gets to walk in and see such a delectable treat waiting for them.” 

Loki worked some saliva back into his mouth. He couldn’t look away. “Yes,” he said, and forced a laugh. “Lucky. What...what did you want, Grandmaster?” He knew. Or could guess. But he wanted him to change back already, to stop wearing Loki’s face and get on with it. 

The Grandmaster cocked Loki’s head to the side. “You’re still holding your knife,” he said. “Or - my knife? Well, either way. You don’t need that.” 

He wanted it, though. His skin was crawling. But he dismissed the knife and spread his hands. “I am at your disposal.” 

“Of course you are.” The Grandmaster advanced toward him, moving comfortably in Loki’s body. “I feel like - I feel like I really _appreciate_ you more, like this. Putting myself in your shoes, as it were.” He stopped, hummed, and then struck a pose. “I am Loki, of Sakaar,” he said, and it didn’t sound like the Grandmaster’s voice at all. 

It sounded like _his._

He took a deep breath and licked his lips, and his laugh sounded anemic. “Grandmaster, are you mocking me?” 

“Mocking you?” The Grandmaster’s voice, again, and Loki wasn’t sure which was worse - the Grandmaster’s voice from his own face, or hearing his own voice from someone else’s mouth. “I would _never_ mock you, sweetheart. Is that...what you think is going on?”

_Isn’t it?_ Loki thought, but he swallowed it back. “If not, then…”

“Oh, _Lo-_ lo,” the Grandmaster said, once again in Loki’s voice. “This is for _you._ ”

“For me,” Loki said blankly. The Grandmaster moved closer, close enough to reach, and his hands - Loki’s hands - reached out to curl around his upper arms. 

“But of course,” the Grandmaster said. “I just feel like...I feel like you deserve the chance to...ha, _enjoy yourself,_ as it were. Experience a little of...what _I_ get to experience. See what I see.” He spread his arms and looked down at himself. “I mean. _Look_ at you. Absolutely stunning. _Smoking_ hot.”

Loki’s face warmed, and his body warmed too, that piece of him that always responded with heat to the Grandmaster’s praise uncoiling in his stomach, heating his blood. The Grandmaster gave him one sharp tug, pulling him in close, and Loki was looking at his own smile - a toothy, sharp-edged grin that sent a shiver down his spine. 

“Flattered as I am,” he said, a little faintly, “This isn’t exactly…” No. Rephrase. “I would rather look at _you._ ”

“Nonsense,” the Grandmaster said. “Not everyone gets to experience something like this, Lo. It’s just because you’re - uh, _we’re -_ so special.” He cocked his head to the side. “And haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to fuck yourself? Or be fucked, either way.” 

Loki could not say the thought had crossed his mind. He opened his mouth and closed it, staring almost mesmerized at his own features, breathing just a little too quickly. “Grandmaster…”

“Pshh,” the Grandmaster said. “Call me Loki.” He leaned forward and kissed him soundly on the lips. 

It was...the oddest experience. He could recognize his own technique being reflected back, used on him, and the first thought that drifted across his mind was _is that what my lips feel like?_ before he caught up to himself, before his own hands were sliding up his body to his waist. The touch didn’t feel like the Grandmaster. It felt like…

It felt like how it must feel for Loki’s bedmates. His own hands exploring his body, sliding up his back, and when the mouth against his opened, tongue teasing against his lips, Loki let him slide it into his mouth.

He shuddered, somehow both nauseated and increasingly aroused. It was strange, dissonant, confusing; it was his own body pressing against him and, when the Grandmaster pulled back, his own voice murmuring in Loki’s ear, “I know what you like. None better, hmm?” 

A faint, involuntary sound escaped him, and Loki’s face heated. 

“I know just where you want to be touched,” the voice in his ear went on, and the intonation wasn’t the Grandmaster’s, was _his._ “I know what you need. And I know how much you’re going to enjoy this.” Fingers slid down to his ass and squeezed, and Loki’s hips jerked forward. 

A low laugh, and a bite on the side of his neck followed by the Grandmaster’s voice saying, “isn’t this _fun?_ ”

Loki was not certain that was the word he would use. He wasn’t sure it _wasn’t,_ either. Was this, he wondered, masturbation or some bizarre kind of incest? The question made him want to laugh, but it would have been distinctly hysterical. He didn’t think the Grandmaster would approve.

The hands on his ass pulling him in so that their two bodies were rubbing against each other, deliberate rocking of his hips grinding against Loki’s shortening his breath and sending blood downwards, cock stiffening in his pants. 

“Grandmaster,” he started to say, but he laid a finger against Loki’s lips.

“Ah,” he said. “ _That’s_ not my name.” It was Loki’s voice again, instead of the Grandmaster’s, and there was that lurching sensation again like he was about to fall. Loki blinked at him, and he leaned forward with that unsettlingly familiar grin. “Say my name.”

He licked his lips. “Loki,” he made himself say, and the grin widened. Then he leaned forward and kissed Loki, deeply, slowly, the tracing of his lower lip with his tongue bizarrely familiar. His hand slid down between Loki’s legs and began opening his pants. 

“Sinful, isn’t it,” he said. The Grandmaster again, his voice from Loki’s lips, Loki’s eyes glittering with the Grandmaster’s delight. “I bet you didn’t get _this_ on Assberg, did you?” 

“No,” Loki said faintly, as the Grandmaster’s - no, his own fingers drew his cock out and folded around his length. The angle was wrong but it was his own hand, his own touch. He swallowed convulsively.

“How’m I doing,” the Grandmaster asked. “I’m...I’m pretty good at impressions, but...any notes?”

Loki took several shallow breaths before he said faintly, “No, I...no notes.”

“Oh good!” the Grandmaster said, drawing his hand slowly up Loki’s length, and normally Loki just resented the way the Grandmaster could play his body like a fiddle but like this, wearing Loki’s face…

His stomach twisted on itself and he shuddered. The Grandmaster gave him a smile he’d seen in the mirror. “It _is_ good, right?” he said, and the phrasing was the Grandmaster’s but the voice was his. 

“Yes,” Loki said, because it was, and it wasn’t, but he could only say the first.

“So _tense,_ ” the Grandmaster murmured in Loki’s voice, and then in his own, “come on, sweetheart. Take it easy, now. Just…” He rubbed his thumb in a circle over the head of Loki’s cock, and it was his own hand, his own body pressed against him, his own mouth on the side of his neck sucking blood up to the skin. He made a faint noise in the back of his throat, his body jerking, and the Grandmaster laughed delightedly. “There,” he murmured, back to Loki’s voice. “That’s what I like to see.”

He sank his teeth into his lower lip, shaking a little. Heat had settled heavily in the pit of his stomach and he was rocking into the Grandmaster’s hand, building steadily toward orgasm. 

“You should tell me how _good_ I am,” the Grandmaster said, still in Loki’s voice. “I’d _like_ that,” and Loki couldn’t tell if that was mockery or genuine delight, but either way he burned with shame. He let out a faint sound, and the Grandmaster hummed, and it was a noise Loki had heard from himself before. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against his own shoulder, sucking in air through his nose and trying not to _think._

“Ooh,” the Grandmaster said, in his own voice, “I was wondering if I’d gotten the, ah, sensitivity level right...that’s _nice._ ” Loki lifted his head and saw the Grandmaster’s hand around his cock, Loki’s but _not_ ,and he was guiding them both together, taking them in one hand and squeezing lightly. Loki lurched with a faint cry and the Grandmaster groaned. 

“Oh _yes,_ ” he said, obviously delighted, and then, “would you, _mmm,_ would you...you wouldn’t be begging yet, would you?”

Loki swallowed hard, bit the inside of his lip. “Grandmaster–”

“No, no,” the Grandmaster said in Loki’s voice. “I’m _Loki._ ” He rubbed their cocks together and leaned forward for another hungry kiss, and Loki’s knees were shaking, his body was shaking, and some absurd part of him wondered if when he came the Grandmaster would too.

He swallowed a _please._ The Grandmaster slid his free hand around Loki’s back and pulled him closer. 

“You want to feel good, don’t you?” he said, still in Loki’s voice. “Don’t you want to know how your mouth feels?” He loosened his hand and moved, cock sliding against Loki’s (his own, _Norns,_ stop thinking) and he shuddered violently. “I’m _very_ good with my tongue.”

The sound Loki made was thoroughly unintelligible. He felt split in two, body screaming _yes_ and the rest of him reeling, somewhere between _no_ and _blank incomprehension._ The Grandmaster laughed, Loki’s laugh.

“Look at me,” he said, and Loki forced his eyes open, turning his head to meet his own gaze. The corners of his mouth quirked up, and the expression was his but the look in his eyes was _wrong_ and even as he started to recoil the Grandmaster’s fingers found a bundle of nerves that slammed his eyes closed again. “That’s the spot, isn’t it,” he said. “I know what you - ah, _we -_ like. I think that’s enough build-up, now, don’t you?” 

He pulled Loki’s orgasm out of him like a fisherman reeling in a line. He was almost convulsing, desperate, and then before he could stop himself it burst out of him (“ _please!_ ”) and he felt the Grandmaster smile.

“There it is,” he said. “Please, what?”

It took Loki several long, frantic moments to figure it out. 

“Please, Loki,” he said, finally, reeling, and the Grandmaster laughed again, soft and low and horribly familiar. 

“You only had to _ask,_ ” he said.

They didn’t, Loki observed in some distant corner of his mind, finish at the same time. Somehow that was a relief.


End file.
